


partly because

by gothyringwald



Series: gothy's harringrove week of love fics [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Character Study, Confessions, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: 'What do you like about me?' Steve asks.Billy bites his thumbnail and looks out the window. What does he like about Steve Harrington?





	partly because

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've wanted to use this title for something for YEARS. And I finally have! Hurrah! :)
> 
> Also it's already the 11th in Australia so this could kind of fit the week of love prompt 'accidental confessions' except it's less accidental but...still a confession haha. Anyway... :)

Billy is lying on his stomach on Steve's bed, idly reading a horror comic. His head is resting in one hand, while his other hand switches between flicking pages, and tickling up Steve's ankle. 

The late afternoon sun washes over the both of them, a sultry breeze gently stirring through the open window. Billy feels at ease in a way he rarely does.

Steve's foot twitches, toe nudging Billy's shoulder. 'Billy?'

'Mm.'

'What do you like about me?' 

'You've got a big dick,' Billy says without missing a beat. He turns the page, doesn't look up.

Steve throws a pillow at his head. 'I'm serious. You're always talking about how cool California is and the people you knew there. I figure I must be boring by comparison.'

Billy glances up, then. Warm light catches in Steve's hair, dances across the curve of his lips, shines gold in his big eyes. Fuck, he's beautiful. A flush crawls up Billy's throat. 'You've got a nice face,' he says.

Steve huffs, cheeks all pink. 'A big dick and a nice face? That's what you like about me?'

'Yep.' Billy turns another page. 'What more does a guy need?'

' _Billy_.'

Billy sighs and sits, setting his comic aside. He's clearly not going to get out of this conversation, easily, but he can deflect it a little, at least. 'Well, what do you like about me?' It's not something he's ever wanted to ask, because he can't imagine what Steve could like about him either. But it never crossed his mind that Steve might feel the same way. The thought smarts.

Steve shifts a little and hugs his knees to his chest. Billy thinks he might throw the question back to Billy again— _I asked you first_ —but he sucks in a breath and says, 'You're sorta smart. Smarter than me, anyway. You're funny, even though I don't always get your sense of humour. You're really good with your hands—'

'You know it.' Billy winks and makes a lewd gesture.

'I _meant_ you're good at making stuff, you perv. I think that's cool.' Steve bites his lip and ducks his gaze. 'Um. You're beautiful.'

Billy's stomach flutters and he crosses his arms over his middle. 

'You make me feel good.' Steve's smile turns sly. 'And you've got sexy thighs.'

Billy laughs. 'I know.'

'Oh, I forgot, you're modest, too.' Steve rolls his eyes. A beat and then, 'So, you know...your turn?' 

Billy bites his thumbnail and looks out the window. What does he like about Steve Harrington?

—

The thing is Billy has always found the mundane, the day to day, unbearable. Not only boring but physically painful. Excruciating. He needs action and excitement. He knew that he wouldn't get much of that moving to Hawkins, so he made it where he could. Keg stands and basketball and driving too fast down roads that smelt like cow shit.

At first, that's what Steve was for Billy, too. The chase of the adrenaline rush. An itch he had to scratch. A distraction from the mind numbingly boring smalltown bullshit.

Somewhere along the line distraction turned to balm. Replacement turned to something better. Something Billy wants _more_. 

He's not sure when it happened, exactly, but—

—

The window's down, Metallica is blasting and his baby is coasting along one of Hawkins' back streets. Billy's heart is beating fast, the familiar lick of adrenaline coursing through his blood, made sweeter with Steve beside him. Sure, he misses speeding along the coast, but this right here. This is good. Better than good.

But then he looks at the speedometer and frowns. He's barely over the speed limit.

Weird. He could have sworn he was going faster.

'OK?' Steve asks, reaching across the console to touch Billy's thigh.

'Yeah,' Billy says, blinking. He flashes Steve a grin. 'I'm awesome.'

—

Billy hates thinking of all the good music he's missing in Hawkins, so, when Steve surprises him with Judas Priest tickets he's fucking ecstatic. They drive up to Chicago early, book a hotel. Make a night of it.

Steve is jittery—he's never been to a concert, doesn't want to make an idiot of himself, show Billy up—so Billy presses him to the hotel bed and calms him down.

Billy saw Priest play in LA but everything sounds different, tonight. Newer. Better. He spends most of the night watching Steve, watching Priest, and he doesn't feel like he's missed a thing.

—

'I'm getting a milkshake.' Steve shoves Billy toward the diner.

'Right now?'

'You don't have to come.'

'Whatever.' Billy follows Steve inside.

It's a Friday night, so most of the tables are full, but they find a booth at the back where they can tangle their legs together. Trade their secret smiles.

Steve orders a chocolate milkshake, Billy a cherry soda, and they share a plate of fries.

'Tina's party is tonight.' Steve swishes his straw around. He glances up. 'That might be fun?'

'Nah.' Billy dunks a fry into Steve's milkshake, shoves it in his mouth. 'Let's stay here.'

—

Billy misses rolling waves, salt on his tongue, sand between his toes. He's never seen the point of swimming pools when the beach was right there. Now, the beach is far away, and the closest thing is the Harringtons' pool.

He can’t surf but he can throw Steve in, let Steve grasp his leg, pull him under. He can wrestle with Steve, slippery hands roaming over slick skin, watch as Steve pushes away and glides through the water like he was born for it.

Sitting by the Harringtons' pool, Billy can feel the spray of salt, hear those roaring waves.

—

The ball goes through the hoop—swish—and Steve turns to Billy with a grin. He's won. 'Best out of three?'

Usually, Billy would say fuck yes. Play harder. Meaner. But not today. He's weirdly satisfied seeing Steve flushed with victory, admiring his grace as he picks up the ball, spins it on his finger. To bask in the memory of every time they brushed against each other, shoulders bumping, hips knocking.

Billy shakes his head and sits. He pulls Steve down, settles him between his legs, hooks his chin over his shoulder. 'This is better,' he says and kisses Steve's neck.

—

'You're not boring,' Billy says, finally.

Steve's face screws up, like he thinks Billy is still fucking with him. Still not taking his question seriously. 'Thanks?'

Billy runs a hand over his face. How can he say this without blurting the three words he doesn't want to let slip. 'Look, Hawkins is boring. I hate it here. I miss California. All the fucking time.' He looks up, and Steve is looking back at him. Waiting. Trusting.

Don't fuck this up, Hargrove. Don't you dare fuck this one up. 'I like _you_ because...' 

Because. 

Because. 

'Because you make me not miss California.'

'Oh,' Steve says. A small frown creases his brow, he's playing with the hem of his shirt.

Billy waits. Heart pounding. Mouth dry. If Steve doesn't get what Billy means, then that's fine, it is, so long as he doesn't—

' _Oh_ ,' Steve repeats, softly. His Adam's apple works and Billy follows the motion with his gaze, heart in his throat. When Steve's mouth curves into a smile, Billy exhales. Steve reaches toward Billy, curls his fingers around his wrist and tugs.

All the tension goes out of Billy and he lets himself be pulled across the bed, settles himself onto Steve's lap. 'Yeah,' Billy says, 'oh,' and from the way Steve is looking up at him, Billy thinks Steve knows exactly what he means.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) feel free to come find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](https://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/)! My inbox/asks are always open :) I have [a little promo post (text only)](https://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/182722838170/partly-because) for the fic over there if reblogging is your bag :) (thanks in advance to anyone who does :))
> 
> All the memory sections are drabbles (i.e. exactly 100 words) because I thought it would be fun to set myself that challenge and to also keep this to something manageable and maybe a bit more immediate. IDK.
> 
> This is vaguely inspired by [Having a Coke With You by Frank O'Hara](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/having-coke-you) (which is where the title is from) or, at least, its themes. It isn’t what I intended when I set out to write something that reflects the themes of the poem but that’s OK! I couldn’t make any other framework, er, work and I like how this came together :) plus I finally got to use that title! I wanted it for a longer project but nothings ever fit so...I made something that fit :) You can listen to Frank O'Hara [reading it himself here too](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDLwivcpFe8)


End file.
